What's Your Damage?
by NRATQH
Summary: In which Tim and Dick finally talk and Tim's enjoying his time with his brother. But he gets reminded that some wounds tend to run deep. Also, maybe Dick not telling everyone he was dead wasn't completely his fault. A pairing to 'What's Your Poison' but can stand alone


It had all in all been a rather uneventful night. Quiet even. The kind Tim would spend in his training room after ending patrol a little early. Maybe even finish the mountainous amount of paperwork perched on his office desk he's yet to touch. But instead he finds himself sitting on his big brother's couch, slicing a baguette on the coffee table as 'The Magnificent Seven' played in the background. Chuckling every time he heard Dick curse in the make shift kitchen behind him.

"If you would just use the oven mits..."

"I did! Ow... shit...fuck! You try stirring beef stew with only one functional arm"

"We both now I'd burn the stove" Tim says as he finishes up and brings everything back to the kitchen.

"Awww… you just love my cooking"

"I'll bite. It's better than Jason's by only a fraction though. He makes a mean casserole"

Dick lets out a whine as he hands Tim a spoonful to taste "That's not fair. He got Alfie's recipe. I've only got me wits and me noggin!"

"Well tell your noggin the stew needs just another dash of paprika" was the playful reply all while he licked the spoon and smacked his lips. Moving to the cabinet to pull out 2 oddly misshapen bowls.

He gives them both a quizzical look. "We need to get you proper kitchenware" he says finally before passing them to his brother.

"What's wrong with these?" Dick raises an eyebrow as he fills both bowls to the brim. Tim takes his and tops it with bread before scooting over back to the TV.

"Other than it would give poor Alfred a hernia? Nothing really, but you only have two."

"Good point. Come on Timbo, Denzel Washington's about to serve up some justice and I'm not missing it"

The next few moments are filled with a comfortable and affable silence as they both relax against the couch to watch the drama on the screen unfold. Tim can feel the muscles in his shoulders unwind. Bowl in one hand and his feet propped up on Dicks lap. The lingering ache he can still feel down to the very bone from his incident on patrol the night before is faded to a dull thrum and the relief has him heaving a sigh of content.

He's missed this. He's missed his brother. He's missed the feeling of being able to simply relax in a way he hasn't really been able to in months. To sink deeper into the couch and not think about tomorrow or yesterday and just enjoy the moment. He's missed being able to just be himself. Not Red Robin, Gotham vigilante. Not Tim Wayne, heir to millions. Not even Tim drake, orphaned teen. Just, Timmy.

The thought has him letting out another sigh and Dick spares him a glance.

"Missing your paperwork Timbo?" He asks, laughing out loud when the only reply Tim provides is a Bat-like grunt.

Dick gives Tim a few more seconds of peace before he asks "You know you never told me what actually happened on your little adventure with the league of shadows"

Tim lets out a theatrical groan, "Oh not that"

"Now I'm really interested"

"Honestly it was boring. I barely remember half of it"

"The adventure that saw you take up a new identity, form a bond with a bunch of league assassin excommunicates, lose a spleen and bring batman back from... Wherever he was before, was boring?"

"You're making it sound way more than it actually is"

"Tim"

"Ugh fine. Honestly the whole mess really began when I got a call from Ra's..." Tim starts, dipping a chunk of his loaf into the stew.

"Wait, Ra's called you? About Bruce..?"

"Yeah, apparently he thought I was 'up for the challenge'. But I was grabbing at any straw I could reach so as soon as I hung up I booked it"

"You booked it?" Dick gives him a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah"

"Mr 'I always have a plan' just booked it?"

"Hey you told me to find my own thing"

The accusation has Dick throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief "That doesn't translate to 'go chase after the clue from a potentially dangerous enemy' Tim"

"Oh shut up. I was desperate. But yeah it was actually pretty stupid. At one point a stewardess asked if I wanted a drink and I had to hold back the urge to ask for a psychoanalysis"

"Probably not the weirdest thing she's ever been asked"

"Well either way I managed to soldier halfway across the world unscathed. Though not without Ra's trying to kill me twice cause apparently I needed to be 'tested'"

"I gotta say, Ra's has probably got to be one of the more annoying rogues in our gallery"

"True, but turns out I wasn't the only one dodging assassinations. He had this poisonous villains league on his tail too and somehow I got caught up in it. Long story short. I made friends with Ra's men, we managed to beat the whole lot, Ra's lost a decoy and I only had to spare a spleen. It could've been worse really." Tim amends. Tipping the bowl to slip the last dredges of the stew into his mouth.

"Honestly this is just giving me more questions than answers. At which point did he start calling you detective?"

"He'd been calling me that from the start but I don't know why he stopped being sarcastic about it halfway through"

"You're being modest. Even Bruce says you have a shot at being a better detective than he ever was", Dick says, grabbing both their bowls and piling them on the table.

"Well I did learn from the best. Bruce wasn't the one taking me out to parks to train my deductive skills"

"I only taught you the basics"

"And I've used them ever since"

"Ok fair. We'll call it a tie."

"I'd rather not have it at all really. Being on Ra's bad side is terrible but being on his good side is even worse"

"What do you mean?"

"Well for one he won't stop testing me. I can't open a case without considering him to be behind it and second, he tried to get me to give him an heir"

"Wait what???!!"

"Yeah, had me tied down and everything. His half-sister was full on naked and halfway to pulling down the zipper of my suit before Cass jumped out to save me"

"Wait... Wait a second. He tried to have you raped???"

"And kill me. He only tried the last one when I was still on his bad side"

"Tim that's horrible. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Cause it never went through? Besides I'm fine. It was all part of my plan anyway... sort off"

"It doesn't matter little brother. We don't keep this kind of stuff from each other. Especially not after what happened with Bruce and Talia, I mean... we don't want another Damian running around do we?"

"Shit you're right"

"Course I am. But I'm sorry anyway"

"For what?"

"That you felt like you couldn't talk about this stuff with me"

"It's not that I couldn't talk about this with you. You're probably one of the few people I can talk about this stuff with. It's just," Tim gives a dismissive shrug, "You were right. I'd outgrown the mantle of Robin. If our places were switched I'd have probably done the same"

"Still, there were a million ways I could've handled it better. You're my brother Tim. My _first_ brother. As much as I wished I'd developed the same connection with Jason in his Robin years, I didn't. Hell you were my first Robin and we kicked ass. We've known each other from the start and as much as I love the others, you probably know me better than any of them and I didn't pay that kind of connection its due respect when I took Robin away and again when I made you think I was dead and I'm sorry. You deserve way better than what I've been dishing out for you."

With a smirk, Dick reaches out and ruffles his younger brother's hair. The act a familiar gesture of affection Tim admits he misses terribly but with a short glance, he catches the downturn of the acrobat's lips. A gleam in his eyes that reminds Tim of the lost, mournful, almost self-loathing look the man used to have when they first met and it makes Tim go still in his seat, even when Dick gives him a playful shove.

"Don't let me off the hook now Timmy. You always tend to give me more credit than I deserve."

"I'm giving more than you ever let yourself have!" Tim retorts, catching his outburst a second too late.

He tries again.

"Look, I'm not saying you couldn't have handled it better. And I'm totally not saying you don't owe me big time for that Robin crap you pulled. But you did try to be there for me and I pushed you back. When I did ask for your help, you were there like I knew you would be. Truth is you've always been there when I needed you, when Bruce needs you, even when the league or the Titans need you. You stumble and falter sure. You're only human. But I don't think we give you enough credit for how little it happens. And don't think I don't know how shitty it is to have to drop everything at a seconds notice just because the world needs you too." He's raised himself up now. Ignoring the way his muscles protest at the move after having stayed still for a long while.

"Tell me something Dick. Did you get a say about getting sent off to Spyral?"

The question has Dick shrinking back. His shoulders hunched defensively the way they always do when he's getting ready for a fight or an argument or even a face-off with Bruce. But the fact that it takes him longer than usual to respond speaks more about the turmoil he's feeling than Tim knows he would ever let on.

"Of course I did. Bruce asked and… I said yes"

"We both know Bruce doesn't ask. He orders. He makes it sound like you have a choice but you don't. Dick, what did he say?"

His big brother continues to stare at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

"I… I don't…" Truth be told he hadn't really thought about it since it happened. Things had been so hectic, he never really got a chance to stop and think it over. Either way, he hadn't meant for it to come up. Tonight was supposed to be about Tim. About Dick making up for lost time and stupid mistakes. Fixing what he'd broken and hoping he wouldn't have to do any of it ever again.

He realizes that this probably should have been expected and maybe it speaks more for how tiring the week had been for him that he hadn't been prepared for it at all.

And as much as he doesn't want to, he allows himself a second to mull over the question. To turn it over and under in his head as he tries to form a coherent answer that didn't reflect his own confusion and bitterness of the matter.

It occurs to him as he's rolling his many replies on his tongue, that he could just tell the truth. Contemplate the experience and his memories and come out with an answer that won't have Tim looking at him with the same stern disappointment he always does when he knows the older man is lying through his teeth. Maybe man up for once and not be the hypocrite he knows without a doubt he is.

But then he remembers the fight that had almost destroyed the cave, the synthetic corpse wearing his face and lying next to his bed when he woke up. The determined, harsh look in Bruce's eyes that refused to bend even when Dick had begged him not to make him do what he felt was finally too much.

Because that was what their relationship was sometimes. A continuous, debilitating game of tug of war that has Bruce pulling and dragging at his side of the rope even as Dick feels his own two feet dig themselves into the dirt. Hauling and heaving at his part of the line till he finally relents.

He knows that it doesn't always end with him letting go. He knows that sometimes he tugs at the chord as much and as hard as Bruce does. He knows that sometimes, on the rare few occasions, he can refuse to play.

But there's a power imbalance in the dynamic of their game that he's too tired to address. Because if this family has taught him anything, it's that addressing something doesn't necessarily make it go away. Doesn't necessarily fix what's broken and while it was something he was trying to remedy with his siblings, with Bruce it was just a reality cemented too deep in their history that would require power tools to drill out and maybe one day he will. But not today.

Today he heaves a sigh. Draws his lips into a fond smile before leaning forward to wrap his arm around Tim and bring him close.

"He asked me," he repeats - his tone gentle, almost persuasive- "And I said yes. And that's on me. It was my decision that hurt you Tim and I'm sorry" he finishes.

But Tim seems to only tense in his hold. His silence an obstinate refusal to accept the excuse being offered - not at the cost of his big brother.

But on his part he doesn't really have anything to say. Bruce and Dick have always had a deep and conflicting relationship. Entrenched in loyalty and understanding he knows the rest of them will never truly comprehend but at the same time also marred with unresolved hurt and scars that are never allowed to heal. Merely reopened and made deeper with every new fight over old wounds.

His mind wanders to all those months Dick had spent away from his family with nothing but an antiquated radio keeping him connected to Bruce. How he could have died alone and in pain and they'd have never known.

The thought has Tim pulling up an arm to wrap around his oldest brother, fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of Dick's shirt when he imagines that unmarked, lone grave in the middle of nowhere that could have been.

"Don't do it again" he says finally his eyes closing as he drifts of to sleep. Though not before he feels the gentle peck of Dick's lips on his head and a whisper, "Never again, I promise."

And for today…. for today, Tim believes him.


End file.
